Make It Right
by RedRogue
Summary: There was a time when Draco was Harry's best friend, and madly in love with Hermione. After his feelings cost him his life, Hermione must use a Time Turner, to go back in time and become his enemy... in order to save the man she loves. STORY VERSION!
1. Prologue

**A/N: A little bout of something based completely off a video I saw on YouTube of the same name. One of the greatest fan videos ever. I'm not even a Dramione shipper, but it was THAT good. I suggest you look it up—you won't be disappointed. I emphasize again—this story is not mine! It was just written from the idea of someone else. No plagiarism is intended. Just flattery. Also, go look up the song she had for the video to get the full feel of the story. It's by **_**Within Temptation**_**, and it's called "Pale". Now, onward!**

**-**

An empty space is all that's left, of  
Where my heart should be,

The love that once lit up my life, now  
just a memory,

I miss you more than words can say,  
but nothing stops the pain,

And if I could, I turn back time,  
To see your face again.

**-**

The Hogwarts halls were draped with black. The sun streamed through the massive windows, but it was a bold contrast to the dark and gloomy expressions on the faces of all students in the Great Hall. Every seat was filled. The funeral service was about to begin.

-

"_Boy…" his angry voice breathed through the mist. "Your father is a Death Eater. Your mother is a Death Eater. It is time for you to take your rightful place. For their loyalty served, I will say it one more time—hold out your arm!"_

_Draco closed his eyes for the inevitable pain to follow. He would not hold out his arm to receive the Dark Mark, swearing evil servitude to the dark master. An action that he was going to die for. He was quite sure of it. He had known that this moment was coming for many weeks. Still, now that it was here, upon him, before his eyes, he found himself afraid. But his love for his friends, his love for the woman that was Hermione Granger, made the words fall out of his mouth._

"_I have chosen, Lord Voldemort…"_

_Voldemort raised his wand under Draco's chin, making poor Malfoy hiss in fear._

"_What did you say, boy?"_

_Draco didn't respond, to busy letting out terrorized whimpers. Voldemort lowered his wand slowly, much to Draco's surprise, and whirled away from him, pacing between several other Death Eaters in great displeasure._

"_I will give you one more CHANCE!" he cast his spell as he shouted. _

"_AHHH!" Draco screamed in such volume as the curse made contact, barely having time to raise his arm up in defense, as the spell hit his forearm broadly. Draco fell to the ground, the injury too much to bear. He writhed in pain on the moist earth, trying to put his mind to better places, but having no success. Voldemort's coat flew behind him like dark wings, while he circled Draco as he bled onto the dirt below him, like a hawk stalking its injured prey. _

_Voldemort leaned down to Draco's pitiful figure lying on the ground, squirming like a burning ant under a magnifying glass. _

"_No… please… I beg of you, don't kill me, please…!"_

"_If you do not have a life serving me, what do you possibly have to live for?"_

_The killing blow would come any moment now, that was certain. His only regret was not seeing her face… _

_One…_

_Last… _

_Time…_

"_Hermione…!"_

_All Draco saw was a blinding light. In the next second, it was over._

-

People from all over the world had shown up. Students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons had also filled seats.

Harry was sniffing back tears, as his memories flourished, ones of him and Draco play-fighting with one another out on campus, ones of them exchanging notes in class on how ridiculous the teachers were, ones of Draco cheering him on during Quidditch, the Triwizard Tournament… Draco had been with him through it all…

All was silent, except for the tears of some emotional few. Hermione was one of those few.

"Our Fallen Hero" the Prophet had called him. But he was more than that. He was the greatest sacrifice the war had ever seen. Images ran through her mind. The way he used to look at her. How suave he looked when he danced. The way he smelled… the way he tasted. She could still remember that taste, but now it was bitter in her mouth. She could still feel his smooth white skin on the tips of her fingers, but now it was like sandpaper against her heart. It brought new, warmer tears in her eyes.

-

Hermione's mind raced with thought, as she ran out the door with Harry at her heels.

"This is ridiculous, Hermione!" Harry called after her as he kept up the chase. She raced out the long bridge of Hogwarts, unable to break free of even a single moment of pain in her heavy heart. The world was cruel. It was unjust. Draco didn't even need to die in order for Harry to succeed. It was simply a brutal twist of fate. Knowing that their friendship was the very reason for Draco's death ate their soul to tiny pieces, torturing them day-to-day… They all struggled together to cope with their loss, but peace would not come, not even with time.

Hermione rested her head on the railing post, closing her eyes in an attempt to relieve some of the mourning. Nothing helped. The added guilty burden of his needless sacrifice didn't help much to ease the hurt.

"Harry," she said, as she heard his footsteps come closer. "This was utterly wrong and you know it."

"Hermione," Harry sniffed, a tear falling from his nose and off into the foggy distance ground below. "It's killing me too, but we've got to accept it."

"Think about it," Hermione said softly. "We could go back. We could use my old Time-Turner… Harry, we can make this right…"

"And what?" Harry demanded. "Go back and warn him? Hermione, one way or another he'd still get killed."

He was right, even though Hermione hated to admit it. There was only one way to do this. But she could only go through with it if Harry was in full compliance as well. She would need his help in order for this to work.

"Harry…" she breathed raggedly. "His feelings for us were the cause of his death. What if we… were never even friends with him to begin with?"

"But how would that makes things better?" Harry shook his head, not comprehending a world without his best friend.

"Because I would be saving the man I love," Hermione admitted to the floor. "And you would be saving the best friend you've ever known. And that's worth it in itself…"

Harry nodded firmly. He understood now. He would do it… he would become enemies with him… to spare his life.

Hermione frowned in sadness, knowing that this was the right thing to do. Someday the pain would fade, and she would live on. She would live with this. She had to trust that he would be alright… without her.

-

"But I don't understand. You're from… the future? What are you doing here?"

"There's going to be a boy," Hermione said sorrowfully, a very young first year version of Harry sitting before her on the Hogwarts Express. "His name… his name is Draco Malfoy."

"Oi, I've heard of him!" little Ron piped up.

"Yes," Hermione said, trying to get a grip on her composure, barely able to speak while choking back more tears. "In order to save him from a very awful fate, you have to refuse his friendship. You have to let him hate you."

That's when little Hermione showed up, and she stared face to face with the girl she once was. Before she had met Draco, before life was heaven on earth when she had been in love with him, before life had become a living hell when he was so tragically taken from her. It took her a moment to gather herself, but she eventually did. She was here for a purpose, after all, and it was a purpose she was determined to serve. She silently said goodbye to the Draco she once loved, once and for all.

She had to make it right.

-

"_You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort," Draco's gaze was harshly directed at Ron with these words. "I can help you there."_

_Draco stretched out his hand to Harry, and Harry paused before shaking it. He wasn't too fond of how he was treating his new buddy Ron, though he would have overlooked such words on any other occasion. Except today. This was the day that futuristic Hermione had warned him against making friends with this very boy. As a matter of life and death. So, Harry chose to believe her, and did not shake the boy's hand, but rather said:_

_"I think I can sort out the 'wrong' sort for myself, thanks."_

-

The rest was history…

"_I don't want a foul scar across my head, thanks. I don't think getting your head cut open makes you special myself…" _

"_Scared, Potter?"_

"_You wish."_

"_How dare you talk to me—you filthy little mudblood…!"_

"_It's not the sort of thing you hear in civilized conversation…"_

"_They say the last time the chamber was opened, a Mudblood died… as for me, I hope its Granger…" _

"_I think we better teach Weaslebee how to speak to his superiors…!"_

"_I hope you don't mean yourself…!"_

"_I don't think you'll last ten minutes into this tournament… My father disagrees… he's doesn't think you'll last five."_

"_I don't give a damn what your father thinks, Malfoy…!"_

-

Time caught up with her eventually. There was a day when her alternate self and true self merged into a single form, living in the hellish world as Draco's mortal enemy, while still having the mind of his lover. The same happened with Harry and Ron. But as the brave souls they were, they managed to keep up with their charade, hiding behind insults as verbal masks to their pain. It seemed the stronger she felt of hurt in her heart, the harsher she overcompensated her outward hate towards Draco.

The day she hit him in the face was the day that stood more than most. It was a strike against her out face, her own heart. Hating him was a masochistic action every day, even though it was her lover's saving grace… he would never know that.

Hermione watched Draco run off in fear of her after her aggravated violent act, and old familiar tears swelled up in her eyes. Harry understood completely, and without words, he held her close. Ron joined in the support group as well. They all just had to remember the good they were doing. For though he was not the same Draco they had known, at least he was an alive Draco…

Maybe someday she would be convinced that it was best for everyone this way…

Or maybe just everyone else.

**-**

**Reviews are greatly appreciated.  
Signed,  
--RedRogue**


	2. Chapter 1: It Begins

­**A/N: Here it is, by request, the story version of Make It Right! As such, the first chapter has been slightly altered to accommodate this, and not spoil the ending for some newcomers. Enjoy! **

-

**Prologue:**

_Five years earlier: FIRST YEAR_

-

"You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort," Draco's gaze was harshly directed at Ron with these words. "_I_ can help you there."

Draco stretched out his hand to Harry, and Harry paused before shaking it. He wasn't too fond of how he was treating his new buddy Ron, though he wasn't one to be confrontational. So Harry remedied the situation with a smile.

"Being new here, we both could use your help." Then Harry shook Draco's hand before he had a chance to argue with that. Draco cast Ron one more questioning look, then let it go, making a face that seemed to say: 'well, if I must'.

The three boys were inseparable ever since.

-

**If any of you have a scene pre-book 4 that you would like to know how Draco's good AU version plays out in, speak now or forever hold your peace. Reviews are greatly appreciated.  
Signed,  
--RedRogue**


	3. Chapter 2: The Tournament

**_Four years later: FOURTH YEAR_**

-

Harry marveled at the wonder that was the Quidditch World Cup stadium, as he and the Weasley's climbed upward to their seats. He spotted the Malfoy's on the floor below, heading so some of the more pristine box seats, and waved to catch his attention.

"Draco!" he called. His blonde friend looked up to find the source of the voice and smiled when he caught Harry's eye.

"Hey, Harry!" he said cheerfully. "Good summer, I expect? Didn't know you'd be here, or I might have looked you up…" Draco examined the height of the seats Harry was headed too, and added. "_Way_ up. Exactly how far skyward are you heading?"

Lucius Malfoy came from nowhere to slap his snake's head cane on his son's shoulder.

"Let's just say," his father sneered with distaste, his angry gaze upon Mr. Weasley. "If it starts raining… they'll be the first to know. Come along, Draco."

Draco let his father go on without him. He shrugged up at Harry as if to say: '_What can you do_?'… They both knew trying to change Draco's father was like trying to get Hagrid to fit into a mouse hole.

"I'll catch up with you later, Harry…" Draco promised, then put his hand up in a passive goodbye.

"You too, Drake."

"That kid, I tell ya," Ron shook his head once Draco was out of earshot.

"What?" Harry asked with genuine confusion. "Draco's our friend, Ron."

"Oh, I know that," Ron backtracked. "And don't get me wrong, he's good in my book too. It's just, I don't know… something about him I'll never rightly trust. My brothers still can't believe I hang around him, and my father refuses to let him come over to the Burrow… I mean-- he's a _Malfoy_."

Harry smirked knowingly, his eyes falling to Hermione.

"What?" it was Ron's turn to be confused. "What's the face for?"

"Nothing…" Harry grinned. Ron glared at him like he was the dumbest person alive, then went on his way.

-

Harry stepped out of the tent at Mr. Weasley's beckoning, to witness the chaos that had erupted outside. People were screaming and an entire family was hovering above them, and Harry was unsure of how to handle himself against the bustling mob. Men in masks and hoods seemed to be the cause of the madness, charging through the camps as if they owned the place.

Draco stood calmly off to one side of the field, leaning against a tree. Once Harry found Ron and Hermione, they went to meet up with their blonde friend.

"What's going on?" Harry demanded. "Has the world gone mad?"

"No," Draco said with some disappointment in his voice. "Just my father, I'm afraid. You haven't told anyone about what I told you over the summer, have you, Harry? You know, about him getting the… the… "

"The Dark Mark!" Hermione pointed up into the sky. "Look!"

All eyes looked to the sky. The smoky skull was broad against the night sky, a snake swirling around it as if mocking those who were opposed to it. People began to yell and scream, as Death Eaters marched fiendishly through the camp, in case there was any doubt to the Mark's authenticity. Voldemort was coming.

The crowd stampeded past the four friends, separating them immediately.

"Harry!" Hermione's voice rang out through the mob. "Ron!"

She felt a gentle hand slip in hers and pull her to the sidelines of the rush. A small hint of relief swelled in her, knowing she was no longer alone amidst the chaos. She felt strangely safer, as she peered up at her rescuer.

"_Draco_?"

-

Hermione shook her head as she walking across the Platform with Harry and Ron, dragging their things behind them with some difficulty. When Draco spotted them across the station, he jogged a bit to catch up, tuning in earshot to hear whatever had Hermione so upset. Ron and Harry seemed bored and uninterested, lazily placing their carts where they were directed.

"And Winky didn't even protest!" she went on as she struggled to handle her cart and place it among the others. "I can't believe any being would stand for that sort of oppression."

"What's this you're going on about?" Draco asked Hermione as he took the handle of her cart from her hands without a word. She seemed surprised at his help, but she knew better than to thank him. His pride wouldn't stand for her pointing out his kindness.

As the three boys boarded the train behind her, Draco seemed the only one left interested in what Hermione had to say. Ron snickered and leaned to whisper in Draco's ear.

"Quidditch tournaments are being disrupted, Death Eaters are running around, Dark Marks are being put up in the sky, and all Hermione can think about is that silly House Elf of Mr. Crouch's," Ron explained.

"It's downright _terrible_ the way she was treated!" Hermione put in. "Those Elves are living beings too, with rights, like anyone else. It's slavery, that's what it is!"

"Oh yes, it's _terrible_, absolutely _awful_," Draco agreed, flashing a smile to Ron and Harry with a wink and a glimmer in his eyes. "Except the fact that they don't _mind_ it."

Ron and Harry let out a stifled laugh, but straightened when Hermione shot all of them glares in turn.

"Oh, you don't know anything," she huffed, and went into the nearest free train compartment. The compartment across from them, Draco noticed, housed Crabbe and Goyle, a couple of big Slytherin brutes always together. Pansy Parkinson was present, her head resting on Blaise Zabini's shoulder as he bragged about a distant school he heard about that was rumored to be coming to town.

"I hear they teach Dark Arts to the students!" Blaise cooed to his friends as Draco passed. Harry, Ron and Draco loaded into the compartment that Hermione had just claimed, and sat down.

"You know," Draco mused as he joined Hermione on her booth. "My father originally wanted me at that Durmstrang school. Knew the headmaster over there, or something, and you know how he feels towards Dumbledore. I hear they don't even allow Muggle-borns _admitted_! Seemed the more I refused, the more Father pushed it. Eventually, Mother won out, not liking the idea of me so far a-- Merlin's _beard_, man, what is _THAT_?!"

Ron immediately hid the shred of ruffled robe that he had just draped over his owl's cage, and Harry hid a smile. Hermione looked piteous.

"My parents can't afford a new one for me, shove off," Ron ordered in a hushed voice, his ears going as red as his hair.

"And they expect you to wear _that_?" Draco spat out, loud as ever, so that a few passers-by stared. "That's a cruel form of torture!"

"Draco, please," Hermione interceded, something she did with him often.

Ron threw his eyes out the window, anger swelling in them. Draco exchanged glances with Harry. Draco then reached under his seat for his own dress robes.

"They're almost as bad as the ones my mother's making me wear…" Draco added, catching Ron's attention back to him.

"Well, _they're_ alright!" Ron protested. "No frills, no lace…"

"Oh, you actually _like_ these rags?" Draco frowned at them with exuberant disgust. "I'm sure they are very fashionable, if we lived in _1890_… I think they scream 'my mother picked these out for me'."

"You can't possibly think your robes are worse than _mine_!" Ron spat out in unbelief.

"Look at this collar!" Draco insisted, holding his robe with two fingers like it was a dead rat. "It's reminiscent to a cleric to the church of England. If you fancy them, take 'em. I'd relish the excuse to pick out new ones."

Ron seized the black velvet robes quickly, clutching them in his grasp like they were made of gold.

"You really don't want them?" Ron squeaked with hopeful joy in his voice. Draco shrugged and waved them away, taking a gander out the window himself.

"May you live to be a thousand years old, Malfoy..." Ron breathed in the utmost of gratitude.

Harry smirked, passing a knowing glance to Hermione at Draco's subtle way of generosity. But like Draco helping Hermione with her trunk earlier, he knew better than to call him out on it. It would do no good for Draco's pride, or Ron's. Hermione managed to hide her smile, but Harry wasn't so fortunate, so he turned his face away to the window too.

-

After the sorting, Dumbledore rose to make his beginning-of-year announcements, Hermione noticed that Draco didn't pay him much attention, but rather played with the leftovers of his food.

"_Hogwarts has been chosen to host a legendary event_…" the booming voice rang out in the background, as Hermione noticed Draco looking absent-minded.

"Aren't you going to listen?" Hermione nudged Draco with a small smile. Draco shrugged.

"Nothing I don't know already. Father told me all about this tournament _ages_ ago."

"Tournament?" Hermione's interest renewed, she turned back to face Dumbledore. As Hermione stared at Dumbledore with unwavering attention, Draco couldn't help but sneak a glance at her. Such bushy hair, such buck teeth… birds could find homes in that hair, and she could chew wood with those teeth.

Yet he sat mesmerized at the back of her head, being able to stare freely and without judgment. There was no father here to scold him for admiring an impure-blood, no mother to tell him to uphold family traditions… Even Harry was distracted from giving him a teasing smile.

All except Ron, who when his eyes met his for a moment, was able to flash a meaningful glare of warning. Draco gave him a casual nod, shrugging it off with a sly smirk like it meant nothing. Like _she_ meant nothing.

If only it were true.

-

**Please review.  
Signed,  
--RedRogue**


End file.
